Prólogo al libro "Ángel Oliver Pina. Pasión por la música" / Foreword to the book "Ángel Oliver Pina. A passion for music"

Published in issue no. 19 of the Cuadernos "Pedro Apaolaza" by the Arbir-Malena Cultural Association of Moyuela (Zaragoza). November 2016


As I begin to write these lines, I realize just how many times Ángel Oliver's path and mine have crossed over the years -often at significant moments. After each encounter, our paths diverged, only to cross again some time later -never on a fixed schedule, but never with a long interval either. I suppose that is the natural consequence of our both sailing in very similar ships -those of composition and teaching- whose courses were bound to coincide at some point. But I also believe that, without a strong personal and professional affinity, this would not have happened.
I recall first meeting Ángel in the lobby of the then newly established Professional Conservatory of Music in Cuenca, on a day when he had traveled from Madrid to accompany his wife, Mari Paz de la Guerra, who had been my colleague on the faculty since my very first academic year, 1981–82. In the course of a brief conversation, I sensed that, beyond the great composer whose works I had already had the chance to hear, there was a deeply humane individual -warm, always open to good humor and optimism. Later, we found ourselves together on several concert programs -his Apuntes sobre una impresión and my Fantasía sobre "Don Giovanni", both for piano four hands, often shared the stage. And in 1987, I had the honor of serving on the jury -having won the previous year's edition- of the 5th "Reina Sofía" Composition Prize awarded by the Ferrer Salat Foundation, in which Ángel Oliver was awarded the prize for Nunc, an expansive work for string orchestra that made a deep impression on me when I first read it.
Our friendship and professional rapport continued to grow. Between 1991 and 1993, we were both part of the founding faculty at the newly established Reina Sofía School of Music. (I'll never forget that end-of-term student evaluation meeting in which Ángel -fully recovered by then from the coronary bypass surgery that had miraculously saved his life in 1986- nearly lost it again in an uncontrollable fit of laughter, provoked by Ludwig Streicher's absurd remarks.) Our shared pedagogical outlook led me, in 1999, to propose Ángel as my replacement in the Analysis classes I had been teaching at the High Music School in Santiago de Compostela, as I was facing two years of intense work on my opera D.Q. (Don Quixote in Barcelona). Even after the opera premiered in October 2000, we continued sharing that teaching role for several more years.
Ángel also played a significant role in the first training session I organized during Holy Week in 2001, shortly after being appointed Artistic Director of the Spanish National Youth Orchestra (JONDE). The short time since my appointment -on February 1 of that year- meant we had to organize a "simplified" session, dedicated to string orchestra, in which Gonçal Comellas conducted Bartók's Divertimento, Beethoven's Grosse Fuge, Anna Frank, un símbol by Jordi Cervelló… and Nunc by Ángel Oliver. That program was carefully designed and represented a clear artistic statement: two major works from the classical repertoire and two from contemporary Spanish composers. These composers were invited to supervise rehearsals and attend both concerts, in Cuenca and Madrid, enabling close contact between young performers and living composers -something almost entirely lacking in standard musical education.
I know Ángel enjoyed those days immensely -attending rehearsals and concerts, but also sharing time with the musicians and engaging in friendly conversation with the orchestra's artistic and technical teams. I'm sure that experience left him with a memory as fond as the one it left for all of us who were involved. Because Ángel was, above all, a warm and vital man, who -with Mari Paz- founded a model family, loved the little things in life, and was thus free from ambition. And yet, this lack of ambition never meant a lack of rigor in his profession. Quite the opposite!
The following pages show to what extent Ángel Oliver's life and work were guided by integrity and craftsmanship. Rolando Bernal's biographical study traces a path beginning with Ángel's training at the Royal Conservatory of Music in Madrid and his further development as a composer in Rome under the guidance of Goffredo Petrassi, alongside formative trips to Darmstadt, Paris, and Siena. These were the obligatory steps for any composer of the second half of the 20th century: a solid academic foundation, followed by specialization within one of the major avant-garde movements of the time. It's no surprise that Ángel chose Petrassi -who was more attuned to his temperament- over the more radical figures like Boulez or Stockhausen. Indeed, Italian musical culture resonates more naturally with Spanish composers -speaking from experience- than do those of France, Germany, or Austria. It's not surprising that Italy's avant-garde scene, with figures like Luciano Berio, Bruno Maderna, or Petrassi himself, appealed far more than the dogmatic serialism of the central European "high priests", which by then had already lapsed into full-blown academicism, digested however one could.
His catalogue of works -the core of this volume, along with his biography- reflects Ángel Oliver's engagement with the various stylistic currents of his time: Riflessi (1968); Interpolaciones (1970); the aforementioned Nunc (1986)… including a brief foray into electroacoustic music (Studium, 1978). But to my mind, the truest version of Ángel as composer emerges in works where he followed his own voice -more personal, more independent: the Concerto for Viola and Orchestra (1983); the Stabat Mater (1987); Omaggio (1994)… and also in his music based on folk traditions (Tríptico asturiano, 1980; or Canción y danza montañesas, 1987), especially in his music for children (such as the two piano books Piezas sobre temas populares infantiles, written between 1976 and 1989).
The various contributions in this volume -written by such authoritative voices as Albert Nieto, Adolfo Gutiérrez Viejo, Juan José Olives, Enrique Téllez, José Antonio Carro, Encarnación López de Arenosa, Velasco Sánchez Doménech, Guillermo González, Santiago Mayor, and Jesús Legido -offer exceptional testimony. They go beyond affectionate remembrance of a beloved friend and admired musician to present a multifaceted view of his personality and work from a range of perspectives -performer, conductor, composer, pedagogue…- as is fitting for someone who approached both life and his profession with restless curiosity and versatility.
The question remains: why has a figure like Ángel Oliver not received the recognition he so clearly deserves? In any case, this should not be attributed to his lack of combativeness, or to his aesthetic independence -which some may have found "irritating". I truly believe the reason lies more in ignorance and in that all-too-typical Spanish undervaluing of our own talents -and above all, in the mental laziness of our concert programmers. This book does not address that question, nor does it intend to. But as the author of this foreword, I can at least afford to leave that thought hanging in the air. What is certain is that this volume will undoubtedly contribute to a fuller, better understanding of the life and work of one of the most important composers of our recent past -and one who, as the title rightly states, put profound passion into everything he did.

Madrid, August 2016

Presentación del libro "Ángel Oliver Pina. Pasión por la música" / Presentation of the book "Ángel Oliver Pina. A passion for music"

Madrid, Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando. Saturday, January 21, 2017


I congratulate the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of San Fernando on the excellent initiative of organizing this event, and I am deeply grateful to Mary Paz de la Guerra for having invited me to write the foreword to this book -very aptly subtitled "A Passion for Music"- about Ángel Oliver. In it, I recount some significant moments when our paths crossed, allowing us to establish ties of professional collegiality and mutual affection. I mention our first meeting in the lobby of the Professional Conservatory of Music in Cuenca in the early 1980s, one morning when Ángel had accompanied Mary Paz -who was then my colleague on the faculty. I also recall the many occasions when his Apuntes sobre una impresión and my Fantasía sobre "Don Giovanni" appeared together on concert programs performed by the four-hand piano duo of Miguel Zanetti and my brother Fernando. And I remember the fortunate decision of the jury for the 5th International Composition Prize "Reina Sofía" of the Ferrer Salat Foundation -presided over in its 1987 edition, no less, by Xavier Montsalvatge- of which I was a member, and which awarded the prize to Ángel for his piece Nunc for string orchestra, premiered the following year by the Spanish Radio and Television Orchestra.
Later, we were colleagues again during the early years of the "Reina Sofía" School of Music, in the early 1990s. A few years afterward, at the end of that decade, we alternated as instructors for Analysis classes at the newly founded Music High School in Santiago de Compostela…
But the memory I cherish most fondly is that of the first training session of the Spanish National Youth Orchestra that I had to organize during Holy Week of 2001, just after being appointed Artistic Director of the orchestra. Given the limited time -only a few weeks- to prepare, we opted for a string orchestra, more manageable than a full symphonic ensemble. This shaped the choice of conductor, Gonçal Comellas, and the repertoire, which in turn served as a kind of declaration of intent that has guided the orchestra's programming ever since: a cornerstone of traditional repertoire (Beethoven's Grosse Fuge), a key work from the 20th century (Bartók's Divertimento), and two contemporary Spanish works by living composers, who were invited to share the experience with the JONDE by attending rehearsals and engaging with the young musicians: Anna Frank, un símbol by Jordi Cervelló, and Nunc by Ángel Oliver. The vibrant performance that Comellas and JONDE's string section gave of Nunc brought back vivid memories of the jury deliberations for the prize -specifically, of the need to counter some reluctance rooted in the fact that the piece was written for string orchestra, not full symphony orchestra. But when symphonic character reaches a certain level, it goes far beyond mere instrumentation- as Strauss's Metamorphosen or Stravinsky's Apollon musagète clearly demonstrate. In the end, Ángel's piece prevailed unanimously.

Following the foreword comes the core of the book, which the Cuadernos "Pedro Apaolaza" of the Arbir-Malena Cultural Association of Moyuela dedicates -so rightly and so affectionately- to the life and work of their fellow townsman Ángel Oliver. A comprehensive biographical study and detailed catalogue of his works precede a rich array of heartfelt contributions from friends, colleagues, performers, critics, and scholars of his work, along with a carefully curated selection of photographs, manuscript facsimiles, score editions, recordings, concert programs… We are fortunate indeed to have this volume, which allows us to better appreciate the importance of such a prominent figure in recent Spanish composition.
Before I conclude, I feel obliged to point out a perfectly understandable misprint that has slipped almost unnoticed onto page 24. The caption beneath a photo of Mary Paz, Ángel, and myself seated at a restaurant table -just before we enjoyed a delicious dinner celebrating the premiere of Nunc at the Teatro Monumental earlier that evening- gives the year as 1998, when in fact the photo was taken ten years earlier, in 1988. This correction is important, if only to prevent anyone from marveling at how well-preserved I appeared back then -and how quickly I've aged in such a short time.

In the foreword, I leave one reflection hanging in the air, and since the text will be in your hands in just a few minutes, allow me to resume the thread here -and expand briefly (only briefly, though the topic could warrant an entire thesis) on what I hinted at near the end. Let me quote the beginning of the final paragraph: "The question remains: why has a figure like Ángel Oliver not received the recognition he so clearly deserves? In any case, this should not be attributed to his lack of combativeness, or to his aesthetic independence -which some may have found 'irritating'. I truly believe the reason lies more in ignorance and in that all-too-typical Spanish undervaluing of our own talents -and above all, in the mental laziness of our concert programmers..."
These words, though written specifically in reference to Ángel Oliver's work, could just as easily apply to the many composers who have passed away in recent years -composers who, being still relatively close to us in time, must be seen as part of the strictest present. So far in the 21st century we've lost, alongside Ángel Oliver, composers such as Carmelo Bernaola, RomÁn Alís, Gabriel Fernández Álvez, Ramón Barce, Amando Blanquer, Francisco Escudero, Joaquín Homs, Gonzalo de Olavide, and Claudio Prieto.
And a little further back are figures like Ángel Arteaga, Fernando Remacha, Carlos Suriñach, Manuel Valls, and Javier Alfonso.
Not to mention those who suffered the direct consequences of our Civil War and sought refuge abroad to pursue their work: Salvador Bacarisse in France, Rodolfo Halffter, Gustavo Pittaluga, and Jesús Bal y Gay in Mexico, JuliÁn Bautista in Argentina… or Antonio José, who had no time to escape and was thus unable to complete a body of work that promised to be magnificent…
Where is their music now? Sadly, dead -as they are- and, more tragically, forgotten by the very heirs of the society and culture for which that music was created. There is much talk today about historical memory, so necessary for restoring justice to those who disappeared or were made to disappear, and for bringing moral and spiritual peace to their descendants. But isn't today's Spanish music the descendant of all those composers? Do we not owe them a debt of gratitude?
I raise this reflection here because I am certain Ángel Oliver would fully agree with every word. His kindness and warmth were in no way incompatible with a forceful response to the many injustices in our profession -as I witnessed more than once.
Clearly, something is not working as it should in our current system, which has gone stale from far too many years of inertia. It is unacceptable that our major symphony institutions focus only on the most overplayed repertoire -or worse, indulge in passing fads for film scores, video game music, and the like, all in pursuit of audience share. Nor is it acceptable that chamber groups, which could help preserve this legacy, receive no institutional support and must struggle merely to survive. And if we are to entrust this responsibility to programmers, conductors, or performers as a matter of moral duty, we would need a radical shift -one that confronts an educational model currently more concerned with appearances than with its actual purpose. To borrow from Cicero, it's worth asking: How long, Catiline, will you abuse our patience?

And so I arrive at the epilogue of this second foreword -this time read aloud- with a note of hope:
The very recent revival, just a few weeks ago, of the symphonic and stage music of María Rodrigo -rescued by José Luis Temes- is but one example of the quality we can expect from the recovery and, more importantly, the normalization of the repertoire of all those composers I've just mentioned (and many others I've left out to avoid making the list endless).
As I said earlier, we are all fortunate to have access to this volume -into which the Arbir-Malena Cultural Association has poured great effort, and Mary Paz immense passion- along with all of us who have contributed to making its publication possible. May it serve to rekindle the memory of one of the most beloved composers in our musical landscape -and with it, a desire to hear his music again, which we will have the pleasure of enjoying in just a few minutes.
Let me end by repeating the closing lines of the foreword:
"What is certain is that this volume will undoubtedly contribute to a fuller, better understanding of the life and work of one of the most important composers of our recent past -and one who, as the title itself suggests, poured profound passion into everything he did".
Thank you very much.